


paint the lily

by usabuns



Category: DARLING In The FRANXX (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Flirting, Developing Relationship, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff without Plot, Painting, The Pocky Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 14:21:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14875406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usabuns/pseuds/usabuns
Summary: Ikuno presses her body further into Kokoro’s back, craning her neck forward to get a closer view of the canvas. Kokoro feels a shiver run up her spine. Then Ikuno leans her head down, putting it right next to Kokoro’s—so close that their cheeks nearly brush against each other.





	paint the lily

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jianbird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jianbird/gifts).



”Right, hold it just like that...” Ikuno mumbles this as both of her hands reach out, slowly clasping Kokoro’s one hand with her palms. They’re cold and soft, Ikuno’s skin making Kokoro’s nerves prickle. Firmly in Kokoro’s grip is a paintbrush, with ultramarine paint coating the tip. “With watercolor, it’s best to dot the paint and spread it out gradually over the area you want.” 

”M-Mmhmm—“ Kokoro is quite stiff as she sits on the wooden stool, posture prim and perfect with her back not slouching in the slightest. There’s a blue smock tied around her waist and her wavy, ashen hair is pulled up into a high ponytail with her side partings still framing her face. “D-Do you think the background looks okay like this? I wasn’t sure if it was too plain or not...” 

Her hands tremble. Luckily, Ikuno’s grip is steady, moving the bristles with a natural ease. She moves the water around the angled canvas, making the paint shade ombré. It goes from dark to light like real water, flowing from the bottom to the top. “I like it a lot, Kokoro.” 

Ikuno presses her body further into Kokoro’s back, craning her neck forward to get a closer view of the canvas. Kokoro feels a shiver run up her spine. Then Ikuno leans her head down, putting it right next to Kokoro’s—so close that their cheeks nearly brush against each other. 

”The details on the jellyfish are incredible,” Ikuno continues, rubbing the last bit of paint onto the topmost corner of the watercolor paper. Said jellyfish is an auburn color, with long, thin tentacles and streams of fluffy white oral arms flowing outward. She sticks the brush head-down into the cup of murky water Kokoro had set on the side, and taps her chin. 

Kokoro slowly moves her hands down to rest in her lap; she clutches the hem of her skirt and squeezes her legs together, knees producing a dull pain when they press so hard against each other. Her teeth grit. 

Surely her cheeks are a bright crimson by now, she thinks. 

Ikuno doesn’t seem to notice her nervousness, or at least doesn’t say anything about it. Kokoro’s grateful for that. She takes a deep breath. “Th-Thank you, Ikuno. You’ve made the water look so nice...” 

There’s a curt nod from Ikuno as she lifts herself up and takes a step backward, her body heat slowly alleviating off Kokoro’s back. She reaches for the paintbrush again, washing it off in the water and then breaking through the surface. “Here, you try blending it more. Use a lot of water near the top, so it’ll dilute the paint.” 

”R-Right, yeah...” Kokoro takes the brush when Ikuno offers it to her, and turns her body back toward the canvas. She tries to mimic Ikuno’s fluid movements, her careful brushstrokes and delicate lines—but Kokoro’s hand keeps fumbling, her nape growing warm because she swears Ikuno is watching her intently. 

Kokoro tilts her head around after spreading some water around near the bottom, pulling the color up. Ikuno is reaching at the back of her head, and fanning a flat hand towards her face. “It’s so stuffy in here,” she mutters, hardly moving her lips. Ikuno’s eyes close and her violet hair comes tumbling down, unrestrained by her butterfly hair-clip. 

Naturally, Kokoro stares. She locks her gaze on the sleekness, how the side partings frame Ikuno’s pale face and peppered freckles and striking hazel eyes. _Perfect_. _Beautiful_. Kokoro’s lower lip dips open, her mouth forming an ‘O’ shape, her cheeks glowing with warmth. 

“—If you want,” Ikuno starts, snapping Kokoro firmly back into reality, “we can wait until the paint dries, brush some water over the blue, and add some salt to the wet background. It’ll look just like the ocean when it dries.” 

Quickly, Kokoro’s head turns, but she sees Ikuno brush her hair out of her face out of the corner of her eye. The situation just makes Kokoro even more flustered than before. 

She tries to refocus on painting, she really does. But it’s a hopeless cause. Kokoro picks up the brush for all but five seconds before an urge tingles in the back of her mind—making her shudder and itch all over. Sweaty. She feels sweaty and she’s sure it’s not _only_ because of the hotness of the humid art room. 

A cough comes from her, she tugs at her smock and then at her uniform collar, and suddenly Kokoro turns around smoothly on her stool. The tension is just too much; she blurts, ”H-Hey, before we do th-that— W-We should take a snack break!” The last sentence comes out rushed and with her voice slightly cracking, so Kokoro avoids eye contact. 

Ikuno pushes her glasses up toward the bridge of her nose, eyebrows raising at the offer. Her arms are crossed lightly over her chest, crinkling the fabric of her dress shirt. “Ehhh—“ There’s a hint of the barest surprise in her tone. But then: A sweet smile, small but warm, blooms on her face. “Sure, Kokoro.” And so Ikuno walks towards her, brushing off her skirt and pushing her hair behind her shoulder. 

Kokoro smiles broadly, then leans down to open her sage-colored schoolbag. Ikuno pulls up a stool beside her, dragging it along the tiled floor until she’s sitting only a foot in front of her. “Oh, you already have food with you?” asks Ikuno, also leaning over slightly to look inside the bag. 

Their foreheads nearly touch. 

The nerves come flooding back—Kokoro fidgets with the zipper, heart pounding, and lifts a crumpled plastic bag out from the biggest pocket. “A-Ah, y-yeah— I was with Futoshi-kun earlier, we went to the convenience store and...I saved these...” Her voice goes soft and quiet near the end, dropping off into silence. 

Ikuno hums, and Kokoro holds up a bag half full of checkerboard cookies. When Ikuno takes it, Kokoro’s hands dive back into her backpack and produce a box of pocky—which, again, has already been eaten from. 

”Y-You can take some, Ikuno,” says Kokoro mildly, hiding her anxiety. She really does hate the tension; one day she hopes it’ll dissolve completely into a languid ease. Kokoro fumbles with the pocky box, ripping at the corners and unfolding the flap that Futoshi had pressed closed a few hours ago. It’s a tight, hasty fold, cardboard still held in place. She keeps fumbling. 

Next to her, Ikuno quietly munches on one of the small, square cookies. Kokoro feels that piercing gaze again, and it makes her shiver. But she manages to life the tab up after a hard pull, successfully opening the box. 

She looks up, placing the pocky in her lap, suddenly saying, “I know it was sudden, b-but—thank you for coming to help me today!” 

A light smile lifts up Ikuno’s lips, and then she swallows the cookie in her mouth. There’s another one clasped between her pointer finger and thumb. “It’s not a problem. You know how much I enjoy painting.” She pops the next checkerboard in, crunching on it carefully. 

A blush tickles Kokoro’s cheeks. Somehow, it feels like a compliment—like an accomplishment. “Oh, of course! And you’re really good at it, too, you know!” Kokoro’s laugh is so genuine and calm that she can hardly believe it even comes from her. Holding a conversation with Ikuno is...surprisingly easy. 

Ikuno laughs softly in response, and Kokoro freezes in place, her blush growing. The sound of Ikuno’s gentle laugh is enough to make Kokoro’s head thump. She swipes at her bangs—stuck to her skin from slick sweat—and fixes her lacy blue headband. That laugh is enough to boost her confidence tenfold. 

”Ikuno,” Kokoro says, bringing the box up again; her voice has a renewed sense of boldness, but nothing too harsh or demanding. “We should eat it like the pocky game.” 

One of Ikuno’s eyebrow arches—Kokoro blinks; had she gone too far? “You really want to do that kids’ game?” 

The nod that comes from Kokoro is tense and matter-of-fact. “Yes! I-It’s been so long since I’ve done it. I remember all of us doing it together at sleepovers when we were younger...” Her voice is wistful, fond memories of their shared childhood coming back. The nine of them had always been so close, after all. Maybe this would be enough to convince her. 

”...Okay,” Ikuno concedes, scooting the stool closer. Now their knees brush against each other. “You first.” 

Kokoro dips her fingertips into the box and pulls out a long stick of pocky, the biscuit covered in the standard milk chocolate flavor. She opens her mouth and sticks the plain side inside, clamping it shut just as it rests on the edge of her lips. Kokoro leans forward, cheeks rosy. It doesn’t feel real—she swears it’s one of her wildest daydreams, that she’ll wake up once Ikuno bites down on the other end. 

Fortunately, that’s not the case. Ikuno, a good-natured smirk pulling the corners of her mouth up, chews the chocolate-coated biscuit very snidely. Kokoro flushes, and she carefully pulls her mouth forward, taking another bite. Then it goes back to Ikuno, who takes a smaller one, and then it’s Kokoro’s turn. 

She’s so enthralled in it that she doesn’t even realize how eager Ikuno is—how she moves closer at such a fast pace. 

They meet in the middle, hanging over the blank space between their stools. 

And then they kiss. 

Both of them are still chewing when it happens, and supple lips clash against each other. Kokoro wants to keep kissing, wants to run her hands through Ikuno’s silky sheet of violet locks—but it doesn’t feel right of her to do so. 

She pulls back abruptly, regretfully. She feels her heart in her throat, and looks at the floor guiltily. Ikuno makes a small noise of surprise and backs off. 

”—O-Oh, I-I— That w-wasn’t supposed to happen!” Kokoro shakes her head vigorously from side to side, trying to will the fierce blush on her cheeks away. “S-Sorry, Ikuno—“ 

”—Let’s try that again.” Ikuno has a calm, straight face as she pulls another pocky stick from the box. Meanwhile Kokoro blinks, a bit surprised that she isn’t being scolded—and even more surprised that Ikuno wants to do it another time. 

Ikuno sticks the chocolate end in her own mouth (she’s always had a bit of a secret sweet tooth), and bends forward; Kokoro doesn’t hesitate a single bit as she bites down delicately. After a moment, Ikuno is the first to take the next bite—quickly chomping, getting ever closer to Kokoro’s plump lips. 

And then...they connect again, this time with Kokoro closing her eyes and giving in to the pleasure of it. Ikuno presses further into her, cupping Kokoro’s cheek and sliding one fingertip along her jaw. All at once that tension that Kokoro had felt, that she’d despised so much melted into nothing. Her face must be a bright maroon, and her fingers must look shaky and frail as they twist themselves up in Ikuno’s sleek plait. 

Kokoro can’t stand it when Ikuno pulls back, fixing her rectangular glasses and dusting off her skirt. For her part, Kokoro jumps a bit, tapping her fingers against each other as she waits for what Ikuno has to say. She stares off into some unknown place on the wall, posture held straight as if she’s done something wrong. 

Ikuno clears her throat, grabbing Kokoro’s attention, so she whips her head around. 

Ikuno stands up, that pure smile on her face—she’s holding a hand out for Kokoro, and laughs that soft laugh again. “Let’s finish up that painting, alright, Koko?”

**Author's Note:**

> michie always giving me these good story ideas, i don’t deserve her. 
> 
> comments / criticism always appreciated ♥️


End file.
